Double Bind
by beads33
Summary: Since the beginning of his vigilante career, Dick Grayson has never used guns. However, as a Bludhaven police officer there was now one holstered to his hip at work everyday. What happens when he finds himself in a situation that requires him to make a decision regarding the use of that gun?
1. Decisions

**A/N:** Firstly, I want to state that I do not own the following characters (DC has that wonderful privilege) and will not be making any type of profit off this story. Also, I do not know if this idea has been done before, but it has plagued my mind for some time, so it happened, I finally wrote down my thoughts!

**Summary**: Since he started his vigilante career, Dick Grayson had never used guns. However, when he joined the Bludhaven Police force there was now one holstered to his hip at work everyday. What happens when he finds himself in a situation that requires him to make a decision regarding the use of that gun?

**CHAPTER 1: Decisions**

The police car was a boring place for Dick Grayson to be. Being born an acrobat, he was supposed to be moving, always moving. However, while in the confines of the car, he was forced to stay for the most part, still. The only movement came from his constant fidgeting and finger tapping.

Besides the occasionally passing car, everything remained relatively quiet. The city itself was never truly quiet, but the constant buzz of life was something Dick loved. He had spent several nights in the vastness of space, and without the constant buzz of noise, he learned the quietness dug into him. Dick Grayson was just not a quiet man; if he wasn't talking, it was usually a cause for alarm for those closest to him.

He attempted to keep himself entertained until his shift ended, but after looking at the clock, he realized the next two hours would roll by like molasses. _Molasses, mmm, breakfast. Breakfast for dinner? Cereal it is!_ He began pondering what cereal he would have for dinner before his other "patrol" when his thoughts were interrupted by quiet static. Somewhat awakened from his lazy stupor, he turned up the police radio.

"All Bludhaven on and off duty police officers within 10 miles of 1st street downtown, report to First National Bank, hostage situation in progress, shots being fired."

"Finally, something to do besides sit here," Dick said with a grin. As much as he hated knowing people were in danger, helping them was sort of his forte. Starting the engine, he headed toward downtown. It didn't matter if he was uptown, way more than 10 miles away, Officer Grayson was en route.

Due to his far away patrol location he arrived later than the other officers. He left his car and moved toward the barricade the Bludhaven Police had created between the bank and the innocent bystanders. _Their curiosity will be the death of them_. As he passed them, Dick asked the bystanders to evacuate further to safety, but he knew it was in vain and continued walking. He found Amy Rohrbach, the Bludhaven Police Department Captain, talking on a police radio as he approached her.

"Grayson, what are you doing here? If I remember correctly, your patrol was in uptown today."

"I couldn't stay away from the chance to help people," Dick replied with a lopsided grin, "how's the situation?"

"Not looking well. The robber attempted to rob the bank, but an off duty officer happened to be inside at the time. He tried to stop the robber, but instead was over taken. And, like the others inside, the officer was taken hostage..."

Dick remained silent as Amy talked. He had stopped robberies in the wee hours of the night at this bank before. For the most part, he remembered the layout, and some not so obvious entrances. However, those entrances were too high for Dick Grayson to get to. He thought about leaving and coming back as his other persona, but he calculated the situation and knew it would be best if he didn't. Coming out in his Nightwing gear during the day was always risky. People could get a better view of him than at night. And since he was surrounded by people who saw him on a daily basis, he figured letting them see someone who resembled a "missing from the scene at the time" Dick Grayson was not the best idea.

"We're trying to come up with a…." Amy's report was interrupted when the sound of heavy gunfire reached the pair.

"That guy has more firepower than the average bank robber. Its making this rescue attempt extremely difficult," Amy half growled. Her brow furrowed and she moved a piece of hair that had fallen in her face to behind her ear. "We need to get officers inside to force pressure on him. He is alone and we should be taking a vantage of that. However, he is out for blood and is not afraid of shooting someone. This means, he must be taken down, by whatever means necessary."

The radio crackled to life, "Rohrbach."

"Roger, Rohrbach here."

"The robber is focused on the north side of the building due to my squad. We have wounded people inside. If you can, while he is distracted, move in officers from your position on the south side."

"Ok, thanks," she placed the radio back down, "Ok, you heard the man. We're going to take this opportunity and move in as many officers as we can without being overly crowded."

Seven was the magic number. Seven offices would make the risky job of getting into the bank. In the seven, was Dick.

They moved fluid as a group. They dodged in and out of the parked police cars until they reached the package delivery entrance door behind the bank. With practiced precision, one officer opened the door from the side, while another peeked into the building. When he gave the signal, Dick moved into the building with arms locked straight down at an angle, gun in hand. He used his trained stealth to sneak toward the main lobby.

They were walking down a small narrow hallway. Dick could tell this hallway would be used for package delivery, because they ran into no offices or rooms. He could hear the other officers behind him, and put his hand up to motion them to stop.

They had reached a rather large oak desk, which Dick presumed would be where a secretary sat to check in any delivers. The desk probably came up to Dick's waist, but while in his crouched position, it completely hid him from someone on the other side. While slightly looking over the desk, he could see the main lobby.

The room was a mess. Desks and tables were turned over, papers were scattered around, and a group of people sat on the ground in the center of the room. Each person's hands and feet were bound with plastic ties while their mouths were taped with duct tape. He acknowledged that each person was moving to some extent. Dick continued to look around the room after surveying the hostages. All the way to one side of the room, a makeshift fort had been created using desk and tables.

Out of a hole in the fort, a barrel of a gun showed. It was pointed toward the north side as the officer on the radio had mentioned earlier. "There is an office behind him. If we can get into it, we could easily get him," one rookie officer in the group stated.

"No way. That's practically a suicide mission. There is no way we could get around him without him noticing."

The others continued to softly argue while Dick ignored them. This situation was stressful. He didn't enjoy the group of six being sent in with him. The more people, the more work he had to do to make sure they all got out safely. Behind him, he would learn later, an officer said something that offended another. The offended responded by lightly shoving the other away from him. But this simple act, caused the first to lose his balance, knocking him into the desk they were using to hide themselves. Dick watched in slow motion as a picture frame with a happy smiling family inside, fell to the ground. The shattered glass hit Dick's ears like a bomb. For a moment, he stared at the smiling family. They mocked his current situation, because this was no smiling matter.

A bullet flew past them. Their cover was blown. The others moved quickly to find cover that wasn't the oak desk, and Dick followed suit. He ran along the wall closest to him and eventually hurdled through the opening in the front lobby main desk. He landed behind the counter and moved back to hug the wall. A sound next to him made him jump; he hadn't expected someone else to be back here. Next to him was a wounded man. Dick recognized him as Officer Mendez's, another Bludhaven police officer. However, he wasn't in uniform. He deduced that Mendez must have been the off duty officer from Amy's report.

"Grayson?"

"Yeah, sorry to just drop in like this, so unexpectedly."

"This isn't exactly the time for puns, Grayson."

"I know. Its just an old habit I can't seem to kick," Dick replied somewhat taken aback. He had never spoken to Mendez before today, but he guessed he should be more professional, definitely considering their current state. As he thought this, he noticed Mendez's grimacing as he moved, "Are you hurt?"

Mendez's paused as he sat up. He lifted his head and closed his eyes while taking a deep breath. "He shot me when I told him I was a cop. I guess he thought I was down for the count, or the sirens spooked him, because he forgot about me and built his sick play house against the far wall. I crawled over and behind the counter while he did that, but I haven't been able to get back up. It took everything out of me. "

"Well, don't worry. We're going to get you out of here."

The wounded man gave him a blank expression, "After that little well planned rescue that just occurred? I won't hold my breath."

Dick sighed. The man deserved to be a little cranky, _don't take it personally, Grayson._

A loud noise came from the lobby accompanied by the sound of glass shattering. Dick looked over the counter to see a small fire starting on the opposite side of the room from the robber's fort.

"Was that a low-grade grenade?! He has grenades?!" Mendez shouted over the gunfire coming from the criminal's gun. More glass on some of the windows shattered.

"He is trying to shot the officers outside now," Dick informed the other man.

"Why? What good will that do him? I don't think he cares anymore about getting away. I think he is just trying to hurt as many people as possible now."

Dick knew Mendez was probably right. There was no logical reason to shoot outside. It would just entice the police even more. But it wasn't just the police he was trying to hit. A hostage cried out as a bullet hit him in the arm. Unfortunately, with his hands tied behind his back, there was no way he could compress the wound. The man was going to lose blood fast and would be dead within the hour if he didn't receive medical attention.

Dick looked above the counter to try and spot his fellow officers who had come in with him. He could see two of them from his current position, and they were engaging the target with their guns. However, neither was hitting their intended mark.

When he heard wood split, he turned his head quick to the side to see the criminal's fort hit. The barrel of the gun moved back from between the cracks. The robber moved the gun to above the pile of tables and desk. From there, he took aim toward the aggressors inside the bank.

The robber was, while briefly, exposing himself now to take a shot at the officers. The man was wearing a generic black ski mask. Typical, Dick thought.

"Grayson, can you see him?"

Dick had almost forgotten about Mendez, "Yeah, he is now exposing himself to shot the other officers who came in with me."

"Well, what are you waiting for? You have your gun right? Take a shot."

Dick froze._ Take a shot. With…with his gun?_ He stared down at his hip where his gun lay holstered. He knew as an officer he would have to carry a gun, but he never thought he would actually have to use it, especially not lethally. He only used it to be intimidating or to not draw attention to himself. It would look kind of weird if an officer of the law was afraid of using a gun. Even when he had entered the building, he had it drawn, but he had never planned on actually using it. Besides, there was no way he could shot the robber without shooting him in the head. He couldn't kill a man. Could he?

"I…I," Dick stuttered, barely audible.

"What Grayson?" Mendez asked giving him a questioning look.

_Take the shot? What would Bruce think if he just took the shot?_

"Grayson, do you have him in sight?!" Mendez was practically yelling, but to Dick it was a dull roar in his ears. "Grayson!" Mendez yelled louder.

Dick had taken plenty of "shots" in his life, but with batarangs, birdarangs, winddings, escrima sticks, and even swords. However, he had never taken the shot with a gun. He could see the hooded head pop up now and then. He could easily make the shot; his reflexes were too acute and his aim to precise to not be able to. But the simple task had him close to a panic.

Robin had taken an oath a long time ago to never use a gun and therefore Nightwing did the same. But this wasn't Nightwing using the gun. This was Dick Grayson, Officer Grayson. Who had taken an oath to protect the people and officers of this city by whatever means the situation called for, and that meant taking a shot if needed.

"Grayson! If you can take the shot, do it before anyone else gets hurt!"

The words rang in his ears. He looked over at Mendez leaning on the counter wall. His shoulder was bleeding heavily still and he needed medical attention, but that wouldn't be possible until the robber was taken down. _Before anyone else gets hurt._ If only it was that simple. If it was that simple, why had he never gotten rid of the Joker, Two-Face, Blockbuster, or any of the criminals in Gotham or Bludhaven? They would all inevitable hurt more people, but they still had not been stopped. If it was so simple to stop them before more people were hurt, why hadn't he?

There was a line he had been taught to never cross or even come close to. Right now he more than flirting with the line, he was seducing it; and while he thought he was in control, the line was. It came closer and faster to him the longer he sat there. He wished he was in his Nightwing costume. Dick could hide behind the mask, say a pun, bust in and stop the robber with a few flips and kicks. Without the mask though, he was simply Officer Grayson, confused and frozen Officer Grayson.

He thought of all possible escapes from the situation. Dick had rubber bullets but they were back in his police car. And there was just no way to move from behind the front desk counter without being spotted. For the second time that day, Dick found himself still. His body wanted to fight the stillness, but he was trapped.

Dick continued to debate with himself. What was the difference between him shooting the perk or one of his fellow officers? He was just as at fault for the robber's death if he just let someone else shoot him while he could've stopped it. However, he had no way of stopping the criminal without the use of his gun.

A scream caused Dick to startle. When he looked toward the source of the noise, he saw a senior officer from his original group of seven go down, clutching his shoulder just like Mendez. Several officers moved in to help, but the man was unconscious before they even reached him. Dick knew what he had to do.

He picked up the gun. The metal was cold against his sweaty palms. He looked up above the counter to see if the robber was looking toward him. Seeing that the coast was clear, he stretched his arms over the counter and aimed for where he predicted the hooded head would appear. When it did, he hesitated for a brief moment, so brief no one would even think he had thought twice. Dick pulled the trigger and the regret hit him quicker than the recoil.


	2. Consequences

**A/N: **Disclaimer again: Do not own, no profit. Anyway, while writing this story, I am trying to_ possibly_ set-up for Dick's reaction to the events in Nightwing #93, especially with the whole line, "He was just as at fault for the robber's death if he just let someone else shoot him while he could've stopped it." With that in mind, here is the next chapter!

**CHAPTER 2: Consequences**

Everything felt warm to him, because he was so cold. He sat on the bench in front of Amy's office and rested the back of his head against the wall. Dick felt tired, more tired than he had been in a long, long time. People passed him periodically in the hall, but no one said anything to him. Most of them were secretaries who had not been there. They didn't know what he had done. They didn't judge him, not yet.

_I'm a killer. _The thought repeated itself over and over in his head. _I'm a killer._

The image was one he would never be able to forget and he had seen a lot of disturbing images in his lifetime. He was Dick Grayson; his mind was full of disturbing, memory haunting images. But this one, this one was caused by him. In his brief moment of hesitation before taking the shot, Dick had looked to see if he could shoot the perk somewhere, anywhere besides the head. Luck, however, was not on his side. When he pulled the trigger, the bullet made impact.

As he had stood there traumatized, eyes transfixed ahead, people cheered, people screamed, and people cried. A woman in the middle of the room was hysterically yelling and crying while his fellow officers were assessing the scene. Once they determined it safe, they momentarily celebrated as they freed the hostages and gave medical attention to those who needed it.

"You did it, Grayson!"

"You saved us. We couldn't have lasted much longer. Our ammo was running low, and no telling if he had more grenades. Why did that guy have those things anyway?!"

"Glad you joined the force. You're a good cop, rookie."

Everything they said was a lie. Even as they patted him on the back, his eyes were fixed on the makeshift fort. Behind it was the consequence of his decision. There was a man back there or there "had been" a man back there. The man was no longer back there because of what he had done.

The rest was a blur and now he was sitting in front of Amy's office waiting to be debriefed. He wouldn't get in trouble. Dick had shot in self-defense, not just for himself but for everyone in and around the bank. However, it didn't stop him from feeling like he needed to be in trouble.

The door opened and Amy walked out followed by a fellow cop who had been at the bank earlier.

"Thanks, Rifts. I'll see you tomorrow," Amy said as the other departed.

"Good job today, Grayson," Rifts said as he passed, flashing Dick a huge grin. But Dick couldn't smile back. He stared at the man as he walked away. _Good job? Doing what? Killing people? _

"Hello again, Grayson."

"…mmm" was all Dick could muster.

"So I've pretty much got the whole story from everyone else. But I need your account just for paperwork's sake. That and you were the hero of the day, so I can't miss your side of the event."

_Hero. I'm not a hero. _

Dick retold the events back to Amy. His mouth moved, but he wasn't thinking. He recalled the incident that caused the picture frame to fall over, which he found out from Amy, was due to a verbal insult. He recalled finding Mendez and when it came time to recall the shot, he stopped.

His eyes landed on Amy's desk. A vanilla case folder lay open in front of her, and inside he saw a picture. The picture had to be of the robber. The man he had killed had an identity, he was a person. _What if he had kids? Where had he worked? Where was he from?_

"And he…" Dick started again. With his eyes frozen on the folder, he couldn't continue his report, not with a dead man staring back at him.

"He told you to take the opportunity," Amy finished, speaking of Mendez, "You did the right thing, Grayson. I know it wasn't easy. But you saved a lot of people."

Dick looked at her. He knew she was trying to comfort him, but her eyes were reading him. If he wanted to get out of here, he would have to pretend to be okay.

"I'll be fine. I…I just need to let it all sink in. So much happened in such a small amount of time. I'm overwhelmed."

Amy looked at him thoroughly as if trying to decide if he was being genuine or if there was truly something wrong. His Bat-acting must have paid off, because she replied, "I understand. Take the rest of the week off if you need it. I just want you back 100%. You're proving to be my best rookie, Grayson."

Dick smiled toward her. _My smile is a lie. Like my promises, a lie._ He stood up to leave. "Thanks."

"Be careful out there, Grayson," Amy added as he opened the door.

Dick thought of replying, but he needed to get out of her office fast so he could leave the picture behind. Besides, his mind had already reverted to dwelling on the day's earlier events. As he walked through the precinct's halls, he felt like everyone was watching him, judging him.

When he finally reached his car, he opened the door and sat inside. Dick didn't bother to start the engine though. He simply sat there. He wasn't the same Dick Grayson who had joyfully headed toward the bank mere hours ago. No, he was a killer now. The guy he saw in the rearview mirror was no guy he knew, but then again, had he ever truly known the guy in the mirror. Dick Grayson had always been pushed to the back due to Nightwing.

So, who was Dick Grayson?_ He was a killer. He had shot a man today_. Nightwing would have never used a gun or let someone shoot another while he was there. On the other hand, Dick Grayson was a cop. What he had done today was just part of the job description.

His thoughts tumbled over each other as he rested his head on the steering wheel. It was well past ten o'clock now. Did he want to go out on patrol? _No_, he needed the night off. Or did he? Maybe reminding himself what he truly stood for was something he needed. But would losing himself in his Nightwing persona be running away from Dick Grayson? _Was he turning into Bruce?_ Bruce Wayne was all a lie, a façade for the people of Gotham. Batman was all there truly was left of the former Bruce Wayne; he had buried himself into that lifestyle long ago.

Dick had promised himself he would never let that happen. He was a man that needed friends and companionship. While he had met a lot of his friends as Robin or Nightwing, they always got to know Dick Grayson.

_Bruce. _What would he think about what had happened? _ Bruce. _And that's when he remembered. _Bruce's benefit! _It was being held at the manor tomorrow. The last thing he wanted was to come face to face with Bruce. It was too soon. _What if he already knew?_ Bruce tended to keep up with Bludhaven news to keep an eye on him. He knew Bruce did.

_Tomorrow night_. Could he be sick? No, Alfred made sure to remind him over and over. He couldn't get out of going without drawing attention to himself. The last thing he needed was to be the target of Batman or Robin's investigation of a missing Dick Grayson. Dick didn't know if he could handle his family right now, especially a questioning one. Their stares would be like everyone else's inside the precinct, judging. Bruce would judge him, deem him a failure, and then he would be disappointed. Dick would just have to play it cool and attend the benefit.

Once again, so simple. Nothing was simple for him, though. Tomorrow night he would come face to face with Bruce Wayne. However, it wasn't Bruce that Dick would be talking to, it was Batman. Quite frankly, he didn't stand a chance at fooling his former mentor, but he was going to try anyway.


	3. Judgment

**A/N**: Disclaimer: Don't own, no profit. Well, this story flew by due to all the free time over Spring Break. It was relativity short, but it was fun to write. So, here it is, the last chapter of Double Bind!

**Chapter 3: Judgment **

He thought about arriving early to the manor before the party started, but after thinking about it, he decided against it. The thought of being alone with Alfred, Tim, and heaven forbid, Bruce, was not something he could handle right now. Instead, he found himself alone in a crowded room of people he didn't know an hour after the party began.

Dick had been to a hundred of these things as a kid. The suit, the tie, the fake enthusiasm, it was all part of the act to hide who they truly were. Somewhere in the room of people, Bruce was smiling with his million dollar playboy smile. He would be talking about things that were far in the back of his mind buried behind facts and new leads on a Batman case.

Wherever Bruce was, Dick was trying to avoid him. He stayed to the outside of the room by the large windows that over looked the large grounds of Wayne Manor. He held his empty cup and leaned against the wall. Lately, it seemed he was leaning against everything. Dick couldn't even hold himself up anymore. Maybe it was a metaphor his subconscious was trying to relay to him. _Your guilt is too much, Dick. I don't know if you forgot about that event yesterday, but I haven't. Its pulling you down._

Dick sighed. He needed another drink. As he headed to the kitchen, he looked out for Bruce, but thankfully he never spotted him. Once in the kitchen, he headed to the refrigerator and grabbed himself a bottle of water.

"Master Dick! I was starting to worry you weren't going to attend."

Dick froze. _Alfred._ How did the man always manage to sneak up on him? More importantly, why did he have to be part of a stealthy family when he just wanted to hide?

"Hey, Alfred," was all he could think to reply before he thought of an excuse, "I got caught up with some stuff at work, so I got here a little later than I thought."

_Work? You mean trying to avoid everyone._

"Oh, yes, your police job! I would imagine you would need a break from fighting crime, but I guess the situations are different."

_Oh, yes they are. _

"That and I don't think you fully understand how to sit still," Alfred continued. Dick smiled toward the older man. Alfred had been like a grandfather to him all these years. Would he be disappointed in him? He knew Alfred and Bruce never truly liked the idea of Dick being a cop. Now, this past incident gave them a real excuse to disapprove.

The older man was so happy. As much as he knew he could confine in Alfred, now was not the time.

"You alright, Master Dick? You seem to be thinking a lot and quite hard if I must say."

Dick began to reply when a joyous, "Dick!" came from the kitchen door.

"Hey, Tim!" The younger boy came to him and they locked in a tight hug, "Long time no see. How's everything?"

"Its going well. You know, the usual problems," Tim replied with a boyish smirk nudging Dick in the side with his elbow, "How's everything with you?"

"Been better, but handling it all the best I can," was the only thing he could think to say. _Unfortunately, the best I can isn't very well. _

"Well, Master Dick and Master Timothy, I assure you that Master Bruce would love to see both of you out mingling with the people. Especially you, Master Dick, I'm not sure if he knows you are here yet."

"You mean the tracker inside me doesn't page him when I step onto the premises?" Dick asked, pretending to be shocked.

Tim's eyes widened a little, "Tracker? Bruce didn't say anything about a tracker."

"You'd expect him to?" Dick asked, one eyebrow pointed questioningly.

"Master Dick, don't scare the young man. Besides, you can't give away all the family secrets," Alfred stated with a small grin. Dick laughed at Tim's face as they left the kitchen and headed back to the party.

_Everything that just happened in that kitchen was an act. _ On the outside he had seemed perfectly fine, but inside he couldn't let himself be happy. There was a man who would never be happy again because of him.

Once inside the party room, Tim left Dick when he spotted a school friend here with a rich, charitable parent. Dick was glad to see the boy with school friends. It gave him hope that maybe Tim could lead a somewhat normal life.

Once Tim was out of sight, he retreated back to his earlier spot near the windows. As he stared out the window, a reflection staring back at him caught his eye.

"How you doing, Bruce?"

"I'm doing well, Dick," Bruce replied still in his playboy persona, "I imagine everything is well on your end."

"Then you know me too well," Dick said, only half turning toward Bruce. If he completely turned around to face Bruce, he knew the older man would be able to read him like an open book.

"Well, I'm glad you could make it to the benefit."

Dick looked back out the window, "Me too."

"Please, lower the enthusiasm in your voice. I don't think I can handle the sheer amount that is coming out of you."

Usually, Dick would have laughed and jokingly bantered back, but today he excused himself to go to the restroom, not once looking Bruce in the eye.

Bruce stared after Dick. He could tell there was something wrong with the younger man, but right now he couldn't look into it. He made his way across the room to a smiling and waving mayor.

Dick left the main room and headed up the grand stairs. After a walk, he ended up in front of his old room. With a shaky hand, he turned the knob and gave the door a slight push. It opened in front of him, but he felt like he didn't have the strength to go inside. After a few minutes, he finally entered.

Everything in the room reminded him of simpler times. Times where he would come home from school, do his homework, wait till night, change into his Robin outfit, go out, fight crime, sleep, and repeat. It also reminded him of even simpler times than those. The Flying Graysons poster above his bed reminded him of circus life. Nothing got any simpler than that. He didn't feel like the same little kid who had once called this place home; Dick felt older than he knew he should. Then again, the vigilante life could age anyone, even the resilient Bat-Family members.

He moved toward the bed and sat down on the edge. _You're stronger than this, Grayson. You've been through a lot worse situations. _ It was true; he had been in situations before where he had to deal with his own decisions and their consequences. However, never ones that affected him and the people he loved like this. It wasn't only his moral code he had broken, but Bruce's, too. _And Tim._ He didn't want to set a bad example for the boy. He was supposed to be an inspiring older brother figure, but right now he was a sorry excuse for a functioning human being.

It was like being in the big top all those years ago. There were plenty people around watching everything unfold in front of him, but none of them understood the agony that was slowly destroying him. Down below in the manor, there were tons of people who would watch as he passed, but none of them knew. Just like the people in the big top the night his parents died. When it was all over, they got to go home and leave all the pain behind. They would simply glance at him as they left the tent. All of them left, except for one, _Bruce._

Despite all the fights he and Bruce had been through, he owed the man his life. There was no telling where he would be if Bruce hadn't gone to the show that night. No telling what could've happened if he had left all the pain back in the big top and simply passed the young, troubled youth.

He laid down, and stared at the ceiling. Did he think he could hide from Bruce forever? What was he really afraid of? Rejection? Disappointment from the one man he had always looked up to?

A knock on the door caused him to sit up.

"Dick?"

_Bruce._ It appeared the answers to his questions would come sooner than later.

"Yeah?"

There was a pause then Bruce asked, "May I come in?"

"Yeah."

Bruce opened the door and walked into the room. He stopped a few steps in and took a look around. Dick wondered when the last time Bruce had come into his room was. The older man looked like he hadn't been in here since the day Dick left.

"So, what was that little act down at the party?" Bruce finally asked moving to sit in the chair next to the bed.

Dick looked down at his shoes, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" Dick could feel Bruce staring at him, "And you think I don't know you well enough to know when there is something wrong?"

"I'm fine, Bruce." A silence followed Dick's statement.

Bruce rubbed the back of his neck with his hand and started, "Look, Dick. I know we have had our ups and downs, but you know you can talk to me."

"Talk to you or talk to Batman?" Dick paused and looked up at Bruce, "Since you walked up to me at the party I could sense your Bat-brain working. You're reading me…judging me."

Bruce was taken aback a little, but didn't show it. "I'm just trying to figure out what is wrong with you."

"Everything, Bruce," Dick whispered. He felt sick. His stomach was becoming nauseous and he felt overly nervous in the presence of Bruce. His former mentor didn't reply at first and Dick thought maybe he hadn't heard him.

"I know about what happened yesterday, Dick."

Dick's head fell in between his knees and into his hands. _Of course he knew! Why did he ever think Bruce wouldn't find out?!_

"Your police captain called the house. I wasn't home, but Alfred answered. She told him she was worried about you and why."

Dick didn't reply. Instead, he could feel the shame building up inside him. Tears burned at the corner of his eyes as the image of the bullet making impact made itself apparent in his brain once more. The need to vomit was becoming worse, too.

Silently, Bruce stood up and moved to the bed. He sat directly next to Dick and placed a hand on his former partner's shoulder.

"I shot him, Bruce. He's dead because of me," Dick whimpered.

"Its not your fault, Dick. You did what you had to."

"That's it?" Dick somewhat shouted, standing up, "After years of your strong moral code being hung above me, when I actually go against it, its not my fault?"

"Dick."

"No, Bruce. You don't understand. You weren't there. I couldn't do anything, I was helpless. I had to revert to killing!"

"And if you had done anything else, your identity could have been compromised, meaning mine as well, along with Tim's," Bruce argued.

Dick walked to the window. He felt light-headed and put his hand out against the wall to hold him up, "Its my fault."

Bruce had seen the boy down before, but still, the absence of the Dick Grayson he had grown to know was always frightening. When Dick was like this, Bruce could see a much darker world if he remained this way.

"I should've never been a cop," Dick added as he made his way back to the bed.

"There was nothing else for you to do, Dick. Helping people is just part of who you are."

Dick ignored the last statement, "The worst part of it all, Bruce, is wondering who that man was."

"Dick, I looked the man up," Bruce hesitated, trying to find the right words," He was a nobody. He had no family, no friends, and not even minor acquaintances."

Dick dropped his gaze to his shoes. "That's not an excuse, Bruce. I would've been a nobody," Dick paused, "if it wasn't for you…" his voice trailed off, "When my parents died, if the courts had their way, I would've been stuck in a Gotham orphanage. No family, no friends, and no minor acquaintances in Gotham."

Bruce stared at the boy. He was so broken. "Dick…"

"If you think about it," Dick interrupted, "that man was what I could've become."

"Dick, you could never hurt people. You're too good of a person. I've had the privilege of having you in my life and I guarantee that you would have never become that man." Bruce was silent.

Dick looked up. Blue eyes met blue eyes. Bruce couldn't bear seeing the young man so defeated. He had been through a lot within the past few years. He had moved out, become his own person, and dealt with a lot of his own problems by himself. He could imagine what Dick was going through. There were times he wished the line didn't exist. Times where he thought how simple it would be to end the people of Gotham's suffering. If he did that though, he would be just like the rest of the low life of the city. Dick was feeling like the low life of the city right now.

"Look, Dick. It isn't the same as just outwardly killing someone. You did something that is a normal part of your job. Commissioner Gordon, even Detective Bullock for goodness sake, isn't a crook because they use guns during their jobs. While I've never fully understood your need to be a cop, I'm proud of you."

The room was quiet. _I'm proud of you._ He had heard it before from Bruce, but it was as rare as an appearance from Crazy Quilt nowadays.

Dick looked away from Bruce to the large window in his room. He stood up and walked back over to it. Bruce didn't move but simply watched him stroll slowly across the room.

"Dick."

Dick turned around, "Yeah, Bruce?"

"If that man was supposed to be you, you know, if things were different, well, that life is officially gone now. There is no way you will ever go down that path."

Dick gave a little laugh, "I guess you could say I took care of that myself."

Bruce smiled. Dick was going to fine. He always was. Bruce couldn't imagine the day that Dick wasn't there to pick him up when he fell too far to do it himself. Since he knew Dick would always be there for him, he would always be there Dick.

Dick made his way back to the bed and stood in front of Bruce. Bruce stared up at his ward. When Dick stuck out his hand, Bruce grabbed it, and Dick helped him up.

"Thanks, Bruce."

"No problem, Dick. But we have a party to get back to."

Dick rolled his eyes, "Ugh. Well, I have my own car, you'll never know if I just run away."

"Well, that tracker I have on you would tell me if you left the premises," Bruce said with a sly smile.

Dick's eyes widened. "Wait, tracker? I was joking. And, double wait, you weren't even there when I made that joke!"

Bruce headed out the room and down the hall with Dick on his heels.

"Bruce. Seriously, is there really a tracker? Bruce?"

Bruce smiled.

"Bruce?!"


End file.
